


The Bottom is the Top is the....

by fire_is_my_happy_place



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Blackmail, Cross-Dressed Medic, Drug Addiction, Drug-Induced Sex, Hate Sex, Hate Speech, M/M, Multi, Past Drug Addiction, Slutty Power!Bottom Medic, Snuff, Verbal Humiliation, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-11 17:20:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 17,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5635366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fire_is_my_happy_place/pseuds/fire_is_my_happy_place
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An amoral, sexually frustrated, cross-dressing Medic concocts a little sex in a bottle. He uses it to ensnare two teammates through their old addictions and make a new addict of the innocent Scout.</p><p>He's counting on their hate. </p><p>It gets him hot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dangerous Tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jyaki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jyaki/gifts).



Eyes closed under the silver discs of his glasses, the Medic could hear the vinyl squeak with his breath, an embrace tighter than his skin that sent vicious heat through him. Shifting his weight made the nylons whisper where they cupped his thighs, presenting his cock and balls in a fat bulge peeping out from under the edge of the vinyl skirt. He kept his eyes closed, savoring the confinement, the feeling of being made into something new by the slick surface of the dress, the heels that tortured his legs to graceful lines, his balance somehow stronger despite the few inches of shoe he balanced upon.

Another deep breath and he ran his hand slowly down the slick mounds of his chest, the small cylinder of the syringe between them, the ghost of pressure and warmth of his hand raising the hair trapped against the dress, then over the mound of his stomach. Teasing, oh so softly, he worked himself to weeping hardness through the vinyl before he allowed his eyes to open, waiting until need gripped him with pain and heat.

His eyes, always one of his favorite features, were rimmed in black, the thick lashes startling against his translucent skin. His lips were crimson, a slash that seemed to hover over the faint blue shadow of his chin. Vinyl cut into his chest, the tube dress hiding nothing—not the slight belly age had given him, nor the curve of his cock where it lay trapped against his hip. He turned in the mirror, eyeing his ass where the dress curved around it and lay open, presenting his cheeks to the eyes of anyone he passed.

The Medic ran a finger along the bottom of the open window, settling the dress smoothly under his ass with a muffled snap and tickling himself. In the mirror, a faint flush stained his cheeks, his red lips open into a soundless gasp under his heavy-lidded eyes. A single hank of salt and pepper hair fell in a wave over the top of his glasses. The Medic smiled, then pouted lushly at his reflection, tousling his hair with a hand.

“I am dangerous tonight,” he told his reflection, goose bumps sweeping his bare flesh, and ran a finger over its cool surface. “And now we will see if they are dangerous, too.”

A last tug on the stockings and he stalked out the door, his four inch heels pounding the floor into submission.


	2. Human Subjects

_Shock_ , the Medic thought with an amused twist of his thin lips. The Soldier had fallen out of the chair he was sitting on, the Scout tripping over his own feet and taking a spill into the mercifully cold fireplace. The Demo had spit his drink over the technical manual he was reading. The Spy merely shook his head, but the Medic was not surprised. The man probably read everyone’s mail, and had likely seen every depravity the world had to offer.

It made the Medic want to fuck him, to see if he measured up.

The Sniper had flushed, turned pale, and ran from the room, clutching his hat to his head with a muttered curse. The Medic turned slightly, forcing the Sniper’s cringing shoulder to brush his on the way out of the room. The frantic flurry of the Sniper’s footsteps widened his grin to a toothy, predatory snarl. The population of the room was down to an acceptable number, the right individuals for what he had in mind: surly, intimidated, able to be controlled, and in the Spy’s case, fascinating.

The Medic considered himself lucky that the Pyro and Heavy had taken the Engineer into town overnight, struck with cabin fever and a list of supplies the company wanted them to pick up, as well as the Engineer’s never-ending list of tinkering supplies. The man seemed practically naked without a pet project in hand. The Pyro made him nervous, and the Engineer’s twang hid what the Medic was convinced was probably far too provincial for what he had in mind. The bulk of the missing Heavy made him impossible to control easily, and the Medic did not relish the taciturn Russian’s revenge if he tried.

He would not have come out dressed like this if all three were on base.

The rest of the room struck dumb by surprise, the Spy cleared his throat, laying his magazine down with a faint rustle on the scarred table by his armchair. “It suits you.”

In the continuing silence, the Spy stood and stalked cautiously across the intervening space. The Medic let him circle around to see the missing ass of the dress and make an intentionally crude wolf-whistle before giving the Spy an archly stern look over his shoulder. “Enough, Valentin.”

The Spy ducked his head in the edge of the Medic’s peripheral vision and stepped around him, a hand sweeping out into a courtly half-bow that only partially hid his grin. “You will have to pardon us, old friend, if we are startled. We are used to your scrubs and not your…” The Spy’s hand turned a slow circle. “Your finery.”

The Medic’s glare could have cut glass, a frozen blue that made the Spy straighten unconsciously, unsure once again what the Medic wanted. The Medic was strict, very nearly humorless about himself and the respect he demanded from them. He was also vengeful, his idea of payback both bloody and horrifying.

They’d all seen the head in the fridge. The Spy often wondered, in the still hours of the night, if the Medic fucked it. It was the kind of thought that even a man like himself, a man accustomed to the viscous indignities of wet work, found nightmare-inducing.

The Medic let the Spy stew for a moment before speaking, finally turning his head to meet the eyes of the men in the room one-by-one, glare daring them to make fun of him. “It is finery. And it is for a very specific purpose.”

“You wanna enlighten us, Doc?” The Soldier’s scarred knuckles tapped gently on the poker table, a contrast to the tension that rippled in his shoulders. “Because this has gotta be the oddest getup I’ve ever seen you in.”

The Medic scared him. The Medic scared them all, not that they talked about it much—no one could watch the man’s maniacal laughter as he carved into an opponent with his saw without being a little afraid of the wicked joy he took in murder.

The Demo could not have stopped himself if he had tried, despite his surreptitious fear of the man. “I had nae idea yeh were that kind of lass, Medic.”

Before the sound had time to die in the air, the Medic bounded across the room and knotted a fist in the Demo’s sweater. The other bore the syringe he had concealed between his pecs.

“Do you see this,” the Medic snarled, bringing the syringe invisibly close to the surface of the Demo’s eyeball. “You have two choices. It goes in me and relaxes me, or it all goes in you.”

He leaned forward, his lips nearly brushing the Demo’s and spraying the man with spit. “You do not wish to see what use I will put you to.”

The Demo’s throat worked for a moment, eye straining to focus on the needle then rolling across the Medic’s face. His hands rose slowly on either side of his head, his shoulders high with tension. “Sorry, Medic.”

The Medic let go, smoothing the dress down his hips and thighs with his free hand as he straightened. He sniffed fussily, reminding them all of his age. “You may all call me ‘sir’ at times like this.”

Returning to his spot near the door, hips swaying with a cocky strut, the Medic continued. “I am looking,” he said dryly, “to get fucked into a puddle. Call it a combination of boredom and a test for my formula.”

He raised the syringe, rolling his wrist to make the syringe and the liquid inside it scatter the light. “It’s an interesting little compound.”

“Uh… Doc,” the Scout said hesitantly. “Have you tried that out on any human subjects?”

The Medic let his lips curl into a lush, nasty smile and ran his free hand down the slick front of the dress, cupping the fat package of his balls. “Yes,” he hissed, eyes a glittering slit. “Me.”


	3. The Arrangement

He could see the Adam’s apple in the Scout’s throat bob from across the room. It was intoxicating, the transparent fear that crossed the boy’s face, that crossed all their faces. In many ways, this was better than his joy in slaughter and the terror it bred. They knew he was violent, that he would kill the enemy and laugh.

Now they knew he could threaten them in other ways. They knew his domination of them could spill out into their lives off the field. It was satisfying to the point of ecstasy.

When he turned to see the Spy’s face, he found greed. The man’s eyes were glued to the syringe, a faint sweat making his forehead glisten. With a belated chuckle, the Medic remembered the man’s long-term heroin addiction, the habit he’d only managed to kick by being confined in a tiny desert base in the middle of nowhere. It had been decades since his addiction, but time had made little difference in the Spy’s need. _Once an addict_ , the Medic thought, amused, and dragged the syringe over his lips, darting his tongue out to run along the edge of the glass.

The Spy took a shuddering breath. “I can handle that, _m’sieu_.”

The Medic trapped the Spy’s wrist, making a slow show of pushing his sleeve up to bare the pitted scars on the Spy’s forearm. Respawn had repaired the Spy’s collapsed veins but the scars were left behind, a reminder of what he was never again allowed to have. The Medic punched the needle past the tough keloid tissue of a scar with a pop and probed until he could feel the gentle vibration of the Spy’s trembling heart in his vein.

Half an inch was enough, even for an old addict like the Spy. The drug hit him immediately, a spike of heat and pleasure that lit every nerve in the man’s body with a familiar mix of honey and fire. The Spy reached behind himself blindly for the wall, then slid down it as the Medic let go of his arm. The rest of the mercenaries watched as the Spy shivered, then opened his unfocused eyes.

The Medic smiled down at him, nudging the Spy’s limp thigh with a sharp, leather-sheathed toe. “Tell them.”

The Spy moaned loudly, his long fingered hands running down his chest as his head came momentarily to a rest against the wall, the relief of being high again cutting him off at the knees. It took him several tries to make it to his knees, and the back of the couch to make it to his feet. “ _Mon dieu_ ,” he said, mouth dry. “It is like the angels have come to suck your cock.”

The Soldier shuddered, staring at the Spy. Memories—the sweet silence that replaced his nightmares, the way a needle could push back everything but a warm ocean that stole his thoughts.

When the Medic clacked toward him, heels loud on the bare boards of the floor, the Soldier pushed his chair back, hands raised and voice slowed with regret. “It was bad enough during the war, Doc. I don’t want to have to dry out again.”

The Medic grinned down at him, a vulpine smile that exposed the sharp edges of his teeth. “One little taste,” he crooned. “One little taste won’t hurt you.”

He watched the Soldier lick his lips over and over, his tongue darting out to caress his lower lip and back, flickering. The Soldier’s scarred knuckles were white, skin stretched thin over his clenched fists and shaking with his voice, eyes glued to the syringe. He shook himself roughly, peeling his gaze from the glass.

“Doc, come on.”

Despite his protest, the Soldier did not move again as the Medic slowly, teasingly moved in and slipped the needle under the skin of his hand with a practiced twist, into the fat vein that snaked across the top of it. The Soldier’s head tilted back, the line of his muscled neck straining with the hoarse, ugly sound of his breath. As the Medic watched, bumps swept the Soldier’s skin.

“I hate you, Doc,” he whispered, eyes closed. “Hate you for this.”

The Medic smiled and patted the Soldier’s shoulder, his hand lingering on the heavy bulges of the man’s deltoids for a moment before he moved on, leaving his words behind him. “Not right now, you don’t.”

The Demo beat him to it and ran out of the room as if the Medic were about to eviscerate him. The Medic let him go, a reward for demonstrating the right instincts. The reaction was belated but gratifyingly frantic.

The Scout did not react fast enough—his attempt to bolt from the room was foiled with a forearm across his throat. As he lay gasping on the floor, the Medic leaned in and pinned his arm, administering another precious fraction of an inch from the syringe. The Medic had never intended to let the boy get away, and the fact that he was so terribly naïve simply made it easier to trap him.

The Scout shook, tears squeezed from his tightly screwed eyelids before the drug took him like an overly eager lover. When he opened his eyes, they were lost, fear at war with the drunken riot of pleasure.

“That is everyone, I think.” The Medic surveyed the room and nodded once, then looked down to slip the last inch into himself, his nerves bursting into a cacophonous scream of pleasure. He picked his way drunkenly to the couch and sat, legs and arms spread as wide as the dress would allow. He was not entirely sure, with a faint frisson of doubt, if he meant to invite them to touch him or dare them to try and see what might happen.

The Medic licked his lips, momentarily distracted by the stickiness of his tongue against the lipstick. “Here, my friends, is the arrangement. I can make this nearly indefinitely. As it turns out, it is a by-product of a very common process, and I have a great deal of it.” The Medic realized he was slurring and frowned, enunciating carefully. “I also have a great deal of need. If you want more, you’ll fill it.”


	4. The Curiosity Was Killing Him

The Spy was the first to get it, and the caustic sound of his laughter was razor sharp. “ _Salope_ , if you wanted to get fucked, you had only to ask. There is no need to make whores of us for it.”

The Medic leaned back, his head resting on the couch. “Ah, but it is more fun this way,” he told the inverted oval of the Spy’s face, words like syrup. “So come fuck me.”

He gasped when the Spy’s fingers made a fist in his hair, pulling his neck into a painful arch. “Oh, I will,” the Spy hissed. “And I won’t make it fun for you.”

The Medic merely smiled at him, running his tongue slowly along his lower lip again and tickling himself. When the Spy let go of his hair to walk around the couch, he sat up to see the Soldier standing in front of him, fists coiled at his sides. The Medic was not surprised when the Soldier punched him high on the cheekbone, impact snapping his head back with a pale explosion behind his eyelids. The pain echoed, a bell that would not stop until it was struck again.

 _Lust_ , the Medic thought, amused. _An echo that sounds until someone makes it stop_.

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” the Soldier growled. “I always thought there was something slutty under all your prissy bullshit.”

The Medic fingered his split lip, eyes heavy-lidded, and blew him a kiss. The Soldier blanched, then blushed angrily as the Medic smirked. The Soldier would not have been his first choice—the man was crass, even stupid—but the Soldier was so painfully macho it was fun to needle him.

The Medic’s eyes slid over to the pale face of the Scout, whose stooped shoulders and wide eyes said louder than words that this was not only his first time, it was drowning deep and he had never learned to swim.

“Poor little boy,” the Medic said, daintily licking the blood from his fingers. “You’re in it now.”

The Scout sat down, hugging his chest tightly and staring at the floor, too embarrassed to make eye contact. His body trilled and sang, a bundled fog of pleasure that leaked from his grasp despite his best efforts.

“Warm, isn’t it,” the Medic crooned, the bass of his voice setting a sympathetic vibration in the cowering Scout. “It’s so hard to sit there all alone.”

The Spy’s open-handed slap spun his attention away from the cringing Scout. “Leave the boy alone, _putain_. You wanted our attention, and now you have it.”

The Medic hummed in response, lips quirking up in an unconscious gesture of satisfaction. This was his favorite moment: fists. A cock. The limits of his body. Even though he could not die, he hadn’t been able to find anyone willing to finish it, to show him what it was like to push himself to the end. Not just death, but death like this.

The curiosity was simply killing him.

The Soldier and the Spy pulled him off the couch together, yanking his outstretched forearms hard enough to make him stumble. The Medic could see a killing rage on them and he greeted it with a reckless smile, skin already tingling in anticipation.

The Spy’s fist in his ribs drove him backward, falling into the wall of the Soldier’s chest with an airless gasp. The Soldier clamped his hands around the Medic’s neck from behind, digging his fingers into the great veins.

The room edged itself in red and throbbed as the veins in his eyes fought for oxygen. The Medic wondered if the Soldier knew how to safely choke a man, or if he would throttle him before they had time to fuck. He almost hoped the Soldier didn’t, the extra edge of danger sending an electric sparks down the Medic’s spine.

The Soldier shifted behind him, bringing himself fractionally closer as he braced himself for the Spy’s next punch. He flinched back again when the Medic’s questing hands brushed him, seeking the tight muscle of the Soldier’s flexed thigh.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” the Soldier hissed, hands tightening.

The Medic merely grinned, his body fighting him to panic, to try and claw the Soldier’s fingers from his neck.

The Spy’s next punch toppled him entirely, the strike intentionally low and central to hit the Medic’s diaphragm. The air rushed out of the Medic with a choked gasp, the muscles of his stomach burning. His weight took the Soldier with him to the floor, loosening his hands on the Medic’s neck. Hands rising involuntarily to his abused throat, the Medic fought to breathe, head hanging.

The Spy helped the Soldier up and they watched the Medic together, his chest stuttering painfully. With a grunt, the Soldier hauled the Medic to his feet, hands lingering on the slick surface of the dress, blood and saliva invisible on the black vinyl but for the shine.

The Soldier sighed. “You keep punching him like that, you’re gonna kill him.” His voice sounded regretful, even slightly eager as his hands settled again on the Medic’s neck, his calluses rasping against the Medic’s stubble.

The Spy’s breath was as harsh as his voice, his shoulders squaring to punch again. “ _Oui_? And?”

“Shit, I can’t believe I’m the one suggesting this, but don’t you think the asshole will refuse to give you… to give us… any more if we kill his ass before we do want he wanted us to?”

The Medic could hear the eagerness more clearly in the Soldier’s voice and wondered if it was for him or the drug.


	5. Is This the Only Way You Could Get Someone to Fuck You?

It didn’t matter. Either way, he’d have his way. Killing him, though he’d punish them for it, would be an added bonus, more so if they were fucking him while they did it. He turned in the loose circle of the Soldier’s hands and reached for the man’s cock, shocking the Soldier into stillness.

The Medic was not surprised to find the man partially hard. The Soldier’s battlefield glee was just a touch too personal, and the drug would have made him that way anyway, without the added spice of hate. When the Soldier’s hands tightened again, the Medic looked him in the eye and bit his lower lip, dragging his eyes slowly down the man’s sculpted, shirt-draped torso to the tented seam of his pants.

The Soldier growled, eyes glossy with lust. “Is that what you want, Doc? Do you want to hit your knees in your pretty little dress and use your whore mouth for me?”

The Medic knelt slowly, eyes back on the intoxicating mix of rage, shame, and hate on the Soldier’s face. He’d seen the Soldier’s cock before. They had a shared, institutional shower and were too aware of their own ability to kill to stare at each other, but it hadn’t stopped the Medic from sneaking a peek at each of them when they showered. The group ran average to large, and the Soldier was no exception. The veiny length of the Soldier’s cock was a blushing brick-red, mouth-wateringly wide before tapering to a tip slick with precum.

They groaned together when the Medic sucked the Soldier into his mouth, the Medic in the deep satisfaction that came from the weight on his tongue and the knowledge that the Soldier had no intention of being gentle.

The Soldier groaned looking down at him, at the haphazard part of the Medic’s hair, the smeared red of lipstick and blood on his mouth, the eyes rimmed in makeup, lashes fluttering in concentration. It was wrong, terribly wrong—the Medic on his knees, the tight dress instead of his button down and chaste vest, the smeared makeup and blood, the hate that made him want to smash the Medic into the ground and the wet heat of the Medic’s mouth on him. It was wrong, so terribly wrong.

It was fucking hot, and the Soldier wasn’t sure who he hated more: himself or the Medic who was, by all evidence, an old hand at sucking cock. The tight, wet ring of the Medic’s mouth squeezed, suction tugging the Soldier’s cock as his tongue ran along its underside.

Blue eyes rolled up to look at him in their thick black webs, the Medic’s cheeks hollowing so that they pushed back against his cock, making him fight a little to stay in the Medic’s mouth.

“Fuck you, Doc,” the Soldier hissed. “You want it? You can have it.” He reached down, hooking the Medic’s ears between his forefingers and thumbs before wrapping them in his fists, turning them into handles. The Soldier forced his cock down the man’s throat, holding him there and waiting to feel the spasms that told him the Medic was choking. The bumps at the back of the Medic’s throat convulsed, stroking, and the Soldier pushed himself back further for the pleasure of feeling the flap at the back of the man’s throat part.

The Medic watched the Soldier’s face grow slack, his own face faintly tinged in blue, drool pouring from his lips in a thick flood. His fingernails dug half-moons in his palms, the little pain helping him push back the urge to throw up while he gagged around the thick rod of the Soldier’s cock. His eyes watered, black beading up and webbing in his eyelashes, stomach shaking with the need to push himself away, to breathe.

It took the entirety of the Soldier’s self-control not to pour himself down the back of the Medic’s throat from the friction and the satisfaction of choking him. The Soldier pushed the Medic off his cock with a muttered curse, sending him sprawling before collapsing on the couch, chest heaving beneath the wet belly of his tank top.

“I hope for your sake, Doc, that you did a little prep work.”

The Medic’s answering smile was enigmatic, his bruised lips too swollen to fully close and chin slick with viscous ropes of red-tinged saliva. The Spy’s foot in his back pushed him forward before the Soldier had time to comment on it, pressing painfully until the Medic was flat on his belly and the cold boards of the living room floor, the weight of the Spy’s foot grinding his cock into it. A kick in his ribs turned the Medic over to meet the frigid hate on the Spy’s face.

“ _Salope_ ,” the Spy whispered gently, his tone at odds with his expression, “is this the only way you could get someone to fuck you?”

The Scout laughed hysterically from his chair, arms still wrapped around his torso as he rocked back and forth. He stilled under the combined glares of the Spy and Soldier, shaking his head. Maybe the two older men could afford to court the Medic’s spite, but he could not imagine why they would want to, why they weren’t afraid of what would happen.

He was fucking _terrified_ , and he had no idea why no one else seemed to notice what kind of trouble they were asking for.

“Is it,” the Spy continued softly. “Did you get too old for anything else to work? Too old for anything but the sluttiest, dirtiest dress, too old to do anything but cake your makeup on and pray we were too entranced by your drugs to look closely at what we were fucking?”

The Scout sucked in a shocked breath with a loud hiss, staring at the tense triangle of the Spy’s shoulders. The Soldier smirked at him from the couch, quickly turning his attention back to the Spy and Medic.

At the Medic’s furious glare, the Spy chuckled. “There it is, _putain_. I suppose even a slut like you has his pride, _c’est vrai_? At least a little pride.”

The Spy kept his foot on the slick surface of the Medic’s chest as he unbuttoned his shirt, leaning into it to make the Medic’s bruises shriek anew. “Well, don’t you worry, _putain_. I can help you, but you will give me more of your drug.”

As his shirt fluttered to the floor, the Spy continued, letting his tie pool on the floor beside him. “And you will thank me for it like the cunt you are.”

They considered each other for a moment before the Medic spread his arms. Contempt, a hint of horror, satisfaction—emotions ran through him in a flood and the Medic was grateful for them, for the way they peeled away his apathy. “Impress me,” he drawled, “and I might.”

The Spy snorted and gave the Medic a final shove with his foot before stepping back with a slight shuffle as his inner ear spun. “Back up on your knees.”


	6. Changing the Terms

The smirk on the Medic’s face was familiar, the nasty twist on his lips shouting that he’d won. The Spy had seen it before on a few of his lovers—he could humiliate them, force them to endure any amount of pain as long as they thought they held his attention, and with it his lust. Grudging attention, for men like the Medic, merely proved he was desirable.

 _The real trick_ , the Spy thought, tossing his wadded undershirt on the couch beside the Soldier, _will be keeping the little shit from thinking he won because he’s getting fucked_.

The Medic settled onto his knees with the smug satisfaction of a well-fed cat, equally and obscenely self-possessed. A quick tug of the dress settled it smoothly over his thighs, and he ran a thumb over his chin to wipe away the worst of the moisture, smearing the red of his lipstick across the divot beneath his lip.

The Spy let him get comfortable before speaking again. “The problem with men like you, _salope_ , is that you think we do this from desire.” He sneered down at the Medic. “You think that even with your drug, we spend ourselves in you because we are carried away, whether we want it or not, by our lust.”

He snorted. “The truth is that we would not touch you without it.”

The Medic was too high to hide the faint hurt that set his jaw with an angry jut.

“I am only fucking you,” the Spy drawled, “because I want to get high. That drug is the only thing you have that I desire.” His hands hovered over his zipper, waiting.

The Medic’s face fell, and combined with his out-thrust jaw and the belligerent glint in his eyes, he reminded the Spy of nothing so much as a pouting child deprived of a sweetie. _Much better_ , the Spy thought, his lips curling into a cruel smile.

The rasp of his zipper was thunderous in the silence. The Medic flinched when the Spy reached for him, provoking a low chuckle from the Spy.

From the couch, the Soldier clapped three times, slowly, and went back to idly stroking himself. “Nicely done, Frenchie.”

The Spy looked over and nodded once, acknowledging the praise before taking a single step forward to close the space between the Medic’s face and the open fly of his slacks.

The Medic’s upturned eyes absorbed the Spy’s face with a thrill approaching worship, his skin running with prickling waves. He could feel his face heat, and the knowing, amused expression on the Spy’s face told him that the man hadn’t missed it, despite a slight sway from the drug. The Medic’s skin rose in bumps.

He’d hoped the Spy was this kind of man, that he knew how to hurt. He hated the Spy, hated the acid of his insults. He loved the man, the apparent glee the Spy had taken in shanking him.

“Go on, _salope_ ,” the Spy said, grinning down at the Medic. “Make yourself useful.”


	7. Don't Be a Tease

The Medic leaned forward slowly, letting his breath caress the Spy’s cock from a fraction of an inch away. Bracing his hands on the floor, he bent to trail heat across the Spy’s balls, watching them grow heavy. As he took a breath to go back to teasing, the Spy’s fingers knotted in his hair again, forcing his face against the musky purse of the Spy’s balls.

“Do not,” the Spy growled, “be a tease.”

The Medic let his mouth open, salt filling his mouth as he lapped at the Spy’s balls. The Spy shifted, taking a half-step forward and firming his grasp on the Medic’s hair with a painful twist. The Medic worked at the Spy, the wet slap of his tongue sending thick streams of saliva down the Medic’s chin to dribble on his bent knees. Sweat-salt, musk, the sting of his scalp, the faint intake of the Spy’s breath—the Medic’s eyes fluttered closed, rapturous.

The Spy chuckled and yanked, pulling the Medic’s straining lips up to the half-hard length of his cock. “ _Putain_ ,” he rumbled, pleased. “Can’t get enough?”

The Medic’s answer was a hungry little grunt, hands reaching up to cup the Spy and guide him into the Medic’s waiting mouth. The weight in his mouth, the faint tang and sweet smell of urine, the feel of the Spy’s cock inflating and his hips starting to move, a sweet friction on the Medic’s tongue and an ache as his lips were stretched—the Medic moaned faintly, eyes closed in concentration. Back and forth, mouth stretching to pain and hard hands in his hair, forcing, commanding.

The Medic dug his free hand into the thick muscle of the Spy’s ass as it thrust back and forth under his fingers to feel the muscle rolling, hard and unforgiving. The Spy moaned, voice thick and wordless as his hips sped up, the Medic’s mouth hot, his muffled groans vibrating against Spy’s cock.

 Wet slaps filled the room, drowned out by the sound of the Spy’s voice. “ _Putain_ ,” he murmured, then more urgently, “ _Bien. Salope bien_. _Plus, salope_. _Plus fort_.”

 “ _Aimez_ _tre utilisé, non_ ,” he hissed. “ _Puis avalez_.” With a muffled roar, the Spy spent himself down the back of the Medic’s throat, the force of it bending him over the Medic’s bobbing head.

The Medic’s mouth worked, swallowing the thick liquid spurting across his tongue with the ravenous hunger of a starving man. With a nasty grin, he sucked hard at the Spy’s oversensitive cock, prompting a shudder from the man.

The Spy shoved the Medic away from him. “Brat,” he panted and let himself fall back onto the couch. “But not a bad cocksucker.”

The Soldier absently grunted his agreement, looking over at the transfixed expression on the Scout’s face. “Boy,” he said, startling the Scout, who jumped. “Boy, did you want to get a little revenge on our dear doctor, here?”

The Scout blushed again, prying his eyes from the Medic’s swollen lips to meet the Soldier’s amused half-smile. “I ain’t never… I mean….”

He’d never seen anything like it, never guessed that it would be so… so very hot.

The Spy snorted, absently repositioning his cock where it lay, deflating, against the open fly of his slacks. “That is more of a treat than this _salope_ deserves.” He looked over at the Medic, measuring. “But, boy, you should get some while you can. I doubt our dear _docteur_ ”—he drawled the word for emphasis—“will be amenable to being on bottom all of the time.”

The Soldier beckoned, staring intently at the Scout. “It’s real easy, boy. Promise. Real easy. Make him do the work.” His expression was coaxing, but the Scout knew better. Something was wrong, or would go wrong. This wasn’t like the Soldier, this patience. It would end badly. It had to end badly.

But it was so hot. Something about it—he kept hearing the wet smack of the Medic’s mouth, the fact that the Spy’s cock was in it, the dirty, sexy, horror of knowing that was the Medic on his knees like a whore.

He had to find out why.

After a short pause, the Soldier sighed heavily and started to stand, prompting the Scout to leap up then grab frantically at the chair for balance. As the Soldier settled back down onto the couch, the Scout shuffled forward, eyeing the waiting Medic.

“He won’t bite, will he?”

“If he does,” the Soldier said, leaning forward slightly as he spoke, grinning nastily, “punch him in the fucking head.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay. I've been sick as shit and it's been a touch hard to concentrate.


	8. Looks Good on You, Doc

The Medic eyed the Scout as his hands rose slowly to his fly. The boy slouched, his shoulders curving in as if to hide his chest from view. The Scout’s cheeks were bright red against the downy fuzz of his three-day shadow, blush disappearing into the slack collar of his shirt. His long-fingered hands were clumsy with embarrassment, fumbling at the buttons of his fly. Dark blonde eyelashes fluttered over his eyes, which rolled around the room in disbelief, looking for the joke or maybe just for a lost chance to escape.

The Medic could feel the amusement radiating from the Soldier and Spy on the couch. The Scout’s broad Boston accent and obviously fake tales of sexual success made him a popular target for teasing. If they’d been alone, the Medic would have teased the boy himself, but the presence of both men made him feel a twinge of unaccustomed sympathy. The Scout looked so terribly lost, pumped full of bravado that would just make him easier to hurt.

The Medic walked forward on his knees, closing the distance between the two of them with a squeak from the abused vinyl of the dress. Settling his shins beneath him, the Medic gently pried the Scout’s fingers from his fly. When the Scout looked at him, confused, the Medic winked, surprising himself. After a shocked moment, the Scout relaxed, a shy smile flirting with his lips.

A loud snort broke the silence, and the Medic and Scout looked over at the Soldier on the couch. “Don’t let him get too comfortable, boy,” the Soldier growled, a hand flexing on his bared knee. “He’s more likely to bite you that way.”

The Scout’s hands settled tentatively on the Medic’s shoulders, fingers brushing the exposed skin with the Scout’s tremor. The Medic flicked his fly open with a brisk twitch of his fingers, exposing the Scout’s long, thin cock, the tip pale pink and head fat.

The expression on the Scout’s face: red cheeks, white-rimmed eyes, his lower lip caught in his buck teeth— _bet he’s never even been blown_ , the Medic thought, and smirked. Eyelids heavy, the Medic danced his tongue over the length of the Scout’s cock.

The Scout bucked, fingers tightening painfully as his breath gushed out of his open mouth. “Jesus, Joseph, and Mary, that’s….”

The Spy laughed, his fingers light and persistent on his inflating cock. “A new experience for you, _fil_?”

“No,” the Scout growled. “I’ve had lots of…”

Whatever he had planned to say was cut off by the Medic feeding the Scout’s cock into his mouth. As the Scout’s eyes fluttered closed, the Medic chuckled, mouth vibrating.

He regretted it promptly when the Scout thrust forward, the length of his cock forcing itself easily past the flap at the back of his throat. The Medic’s free hand tightened into a fist as he gagged, tears smearing his mascara into dribbles of coal down his cheeks.

“That’s it,” the Soldier said, voice rough. “Make the fucker gag.”

The Scout shifted his grip, one calloused hand cupping the back of the Medic’s head and digging into the thick cords of muscle. “Like that,” he gasped, hips pumping.

“ _Oui_ ,” the Spy said thickly. “Keep doing that to him.”

The Medic wrapped both hands around the Scout’s hips and pushed, freeing himself to take a panicked breath. The Scout watched him closely and, when the Medic had taken a few breaths, pushed himself back in, his spare hand knotting in the sweat-streaked hair atop the Medic’s head.

It took only a few more strokes for the Scout to bellow, muscles in his ass shaking, body bowed into the Medic’s searching mouth. The Scout pulled himself out abruptly, spending the last spasm across the Medic’s face in a thick, milky streak.

“There,” the Scout grunted, head cocked. After a moment, he spoke, eyes narrowed. “Looks good on you, doc.”

In response, the Medic scraped the come off his face and sucked it from his fingers. A moment of his sore jaw moving, and he blew a bubble at the boy, letting it pop on his nose. When he opened his eyes again, the Scout was sitting on the couch, leaning on his elbows and watching.


	9. Can You Get It Back?

A glance to either side of him revealed the Spy and Soldier, fully nude. The Medic eyed the unhealthy mix of hate and glee on the Soldier’s face before turning to find the same, frozen hate on the Spy’s face, along with anticipation.

“’Member what I said about prep, doc,” the Soldier asked, reaching down to tug the Medic up on his knees.

In response, the Medic wriggled his ass, the open window of the dress cutting briefly into the skin of his thighs. A glance over his shoulder showed him that the Soldier’s cheeks had darkened. The Medic snorted, contemptuous. _Can’t take it from me if I’m inviting you_ , he thought, a faint sneer crossing his red lips. _Does it ruin your fun a little? Try and see if you can get it back._

The Soldier hissed like an angry kettle. The slap he landed on the Medic’s ass sounded like a gunshot, sending the Medic sprawling. “Get back up, you fucking whore.”

When the Medic didn’t spring back up to his knees, the Soldier picked his hips up, setting him on his knees with a teeth-rattling thump. The Medic grunted, glaring at the Soldier over his shoulder.

“Oh, no, doc,” the Soldier said. “You started it. Don’t pussy out now.” He raised his hand again, landing another brutal swat to the Medic’s ass, then another.

The Medic slowly forced himself to relax into it, letting the impact travel his back with each white hot burst of pain. He could feel the skin of his ass heat, the pop of the Soldier’s hand faster, blurring together into one long, echoing scream that lit his spine and came out of his mouth in louder and louder groans. And then it was a scream, climbing from the baritone of his voice into something high and hoarse that echoed from the bare walls of the room.

After a moment, the Medic realized the Soldier had stopped. His head hung loose between his tense arms, hair slick with sweat. As he watched, a single droplet fell from the longest hank to splatter on a crack between the floor boards. Behind him, he could hear the Soldier panting and the faint slap of his foot on the floor as he stepped forward once. The Soldier ran a single finger along the glowing skin of the Medic’s ass, startling a shiver from him.

“That,” the Spy said drily, “does not surprise me in the slightest. I would imagine if you reached around our dear doctor, you’d find him leaking with the need to come.”

The Medic’s cock throbbed and he shifted, knees sore from the unyielding floor.

“Oh no,” the Soldier, voice hoarse, “I’m not touching that. He’s not touching it yet either.” He looked over at the Spy. “How’d you want to do this?”

The Spy harrumphed. “You realize if you go in dry, it’s going to hurt you?”

The Medic could hear the Soldier sigh and waited, eyes closed and body throbbing, to see what they would do. His mind floated free, tethered to his skin by nothing more than an arching rope of sensation, the heat of his pain and the shuddering complaint of his hips and knees. He wanted them to close the cold, empty distance between his body and theirs, to feel the Soldier press into him, throbbing with need and feel the Spy fuck his face until his lips were numbed, hissing vile and sexy things in a mix of French and English. He wanted to hear the Soldier call him a whore again, to hear the man curse, voice choked as he came.

He wanted to see what they did next.

The Soldier cleared his throat, flinging the sweat from his forehead with his fingers. “I ain’t getting my bed dirty for this.” He wrapped a hand around the back of the Medic’s neck, pulling him up. “Come on. We’re using your bed for this. You’d better have lube.”

The Medic peeled his eyes open to see the Spy gesture past him, at the Scout on the couch.

“Come on, _lapin_. Let us go make a mess of him.”

The Scout took a deep breath. “That was kinda… I mean, is it always like that?” He got up, pulling his pants on quickly. “That’s kinda mean.”

“No,” the Soldier said, pushing on the Medic’s neck. “It ain’t always this hard, but I ain’t always fucking a slut like him, either.”

The Medic grinned sloppily at the Scout, pupils blown wide and body relaxed, before letting the Soldier push him out of the room.

“Come on, _lapin_ ,” the Spy said, gathering his clothes. “This is not the time to be squeamish.”

The Scout let them lead him out of the room, wide-eyed and cringing, shirt clutched to his chest.


	10. Until They'd Fucked Each Other Out

The Medic had not planned to take them into his bedroom, a fact that he remembered belatedly through the warm haze of endorphins and his drug. The Soldier stood in the door, hand still digging into the back of the Medic’s neck, and surveyed it. No dirty piles of clothes, no open drawers, no empty water glasses on the nightstand, no photos—the Medic’s small concession to accessorizing the space came in the form of his pigeon cages, stored in the surgery proper, an antique record player with a few records, and several yellowing, framed medical illustrations in his own hand.

“Can’t say I’m surprised he’s a neat fuck.” The Soldier pushed on the back of the Medic’s neck, sending him stumbling toward the bed. “I am surprised he doesn’t make the bed.”

The Spy nudged a frame with his finger before rifling through the records. “German composers.” He turned to eye the Medic suspiciously. “ _Sind sie besorgt uber verschmutzung ihre ohren mit den niederen volker_ , eh?”

The Medic stiffened, glaring at the Spy. “ _Nie eine von ihnen_ ,” he spat. “I was never one of those… animals.”

The Spy sniffed. “And if I searched through your things, I would not find an iron cross? An eagle? Or perhaps in your case the lightning bolts.” He tapped his cheek with two fingers, dark eyes locked on the panting Medic. “You did survive intact, _docteur_. There were two ways to do that by the end: luck or collaboration. A trained doctor is too much an asset to disappear.”

The Medic took two steps toward the Spy, fists clenched, speechless in rage.

“Let the dead lie,” the Soldier rumbled from his seat on the bed. “They got theirs in the end, just like we’re going to get ours. Come ‘ere, doc.”

The Medic hissed, taking another step toward the Spy, who responded with a vulpine grin, shifting his weight evenly on both feet and loosening his shoulders with a quick roll.

“Will you come and try to prove me wrong, _docteur_?” The Spy shook his arms, warming the muscles. “I am willing to give you a little more.”

 “Come ‘ere, doc,” the Soldier repeated. “Let Frenchie have his little temper tantrum by himself.”

When the Medic took another step toward the Spy, the Soldier sighed and got up off the bed. “No, fellas, this is going another way. Get your asses over to the bed and work it out naked and sweaty.” He wrapped his arms around the Medic, easily leaning back to avoid being head-butted by the struggling man. “Don’t ruin a fuck with a reenactment of the war. Or if you do, use it on fucking.”

The Medic calmed himself with an effort, letting the Soldier drag him toward the bed. He would get even with the Spy, but it could wait. This was neither the time nor the place.

Besides, he was outnumbered and not so much a fool that he was willing to risk his reward on a fight just now.

The Spy joined them after a judicious pause, rage simmering bloody under his pale skin. The Medic was precisely the kind of animal he’d expected, from the drug to the manipulation, and he had too many memories not to want to make the man pay for it.

“Why don’t you prepare yourself, doc?” The Soldier turned toward the silent Scout. “Stop hovering, kid. Pull up a chair or something.”

The Scout jumped, his shirt falling to the floor, then scampered for a chair and sat in it with a thump. Everybody knew the Medic and the Spy had come from different sides of the war. The Scout had been too young to go during the fighting, but he’d heard stories. Everybody had heard about the camps, about the bodies and the human skin lampshades and the experiments. Had the Medic been one of them? It was all too easy to imagine the Medic wearing a black uniform, the gleam of paired lightning bolts on his collar reflecting light into the eyes of a helpless victim.

He shivered. The Scout had never had a problem hurting the enemy, taunting them with his bat over his shoulder, popping out from behind a barrier to swing for their head with a bat that whistled as it cut the air and landed on their forehead or nose with a tooth-jarring thump as their bones broke. But then they went through respawn—no harm, no foul, game on, may the best man win.

This was something else entirely.

The way those three men looked at each other made it clear there were undertones, and if the Medic were a Nazi, hurting him was… it was practically a good deed. Sure, he was pissed about the drug and the Medic clotheslining him when he tried to run out. But this was serious.

It was also making him nervous, which meant he wasn’t going to be able to perform. It had been weird enough with the Soldier and Spy watching. This was beyond weird, and he wasn’t sure he could do it.

The Soldier grimaced, irritatedly eyeing the Scout’s wide eyes and hunched body. _Great, the boy’s gonna be a scared little girl the whole time_. He turned back to the fuming Medic. “Doc, prepare yourself or I’ll do it for you.” He flexed a huge, scarred hand. “And I ain’t a patient man.”

The Medic slowly reached across the Spy, watching to see what he would do. The Spy merely leaned back easily, letting the Medic open his nightstand and emerge with a bottle of lube. Opening the cap with a small pop, the Medic lay back across his bed, slicking his fingers. The Spy’s face was deliberately neutral and it made him nervous, made him wonder what the man was planning.

The Soldier’s hand on his wrist made him jump. He turned his head to see the Soldier’s nasty grin. “I said I wasn’t patient. Don’t pussy around it, get in there. I wanna hear you make some noise.”

With a shove, the Soldier buried the Medic’s fingers in his ass, sending fire fluttering up the Medic’s prone body. The Medic gasped, eyes closing as his back arched.

“That’s better.” The Soldier shifted slightly, scooting down to give himself better leverage. “Loosen up, doc.”

The Medic flinched again when an icy stream of lube dribbled down the seam of his thigh, his eyes opening to find the Spy pouring a thick stream of it from the squeeze bottle. The Spy smirked at him and poured a fat dollop over his fingers, applying it to his cock.

“You gonna go first, then, Frenchie?”

“ _Oui_.” A steely note crept into the Spy’s smooth baritone. “First, then last, then first again, until I tire of abusing him.”

The Soldier sighed, relieved, and forced another of the Medic’s fingers into his ass, startling a squeak out of the recumbent Medic. He sped up, watching the Medic’s fingers disappear and reappear, the muscle fluttering around them.

“Is that good, doc? Do you like it hard?”

The Medic groaned, the noise tearing its way past his tense throat. Pain, nerves shrieking, his ass pushing against his invading fingers and being violated anyway, the wet slapping sound his wrist made against his lube-slick skin and the fact that the Soldier was fucking him with his own fingers—his mouth was painfully empty, lips working desperately.

The Soldier chuckled. “That’s a good slut. Don’t worry, we’ll give you something to help fill you up.” He looked over at the Spy. “It probably makes it better for him that you hate him so much.”

The Medic cranked his eyes open to look at the Spy and froze, transfixed by vicious need on the Spy’s face. He read a need to hurt, a need to dominate and to crush and make him cry. He read the promise of murder and it made him dry-mouthed with lust.

Getting even with the Spy could wait until they’d fucked each other out.


	11. Them Two Fuckers Is Evil

The Soldier released the Medic’s wrist, his fingers lingering as he scooted away to leave the Spy standing between the Medic’s open legs, looking down at him. They stared at each other for a moment, the Medic pulling his fingers from himself with a wet slurp.

“Roll over,” the Spy said, voice sibilant with emotion. “You don’t deserve to look me in the face while I fuck you.”

A wave of goose bumps swept the Medic’s body with a tingle. He rolled over slowly, telegraphing his defiance and waiting to see what the Spy would do.

The Spy waited, letting him come up on his knees.

“Open yourself.”

The Medic obediently leaned forward, his shoulders on the bed, and grabbed the globes of his ass, spreading them and stretching the open window of the dress until it bit viciously into his thighs. When he turned his head to see what the Spy would do next, there was a click and the Spy lay the cold length of a knife across his lower back, working it until it could lay flat on his spine and opening small slices in the tight black vinyl of the dress.

“I said, _salope_ ,” the Spy hissed, “that you do not deserve to look at me. If you turn again, I will stab you and fuck the hole.”

The Medic pressed his forehead to the mattress with a shudder that became violent as the Spy forced himself into the bruised ring of the Medic’s ass. The Medic’s heart pounded, the echo of his pulse sending small contractions through the tense muscles of his ass. The Spy’s cock burned inside him, nerves sending cries of distress as much from the pain of the cock in him as how much the man hated him. The cold blade on his back was a terrifying warning that rose out of the chorus of his nerves, demanding his attention. He could feel the prickle of tears in his eyes, his breath thick and stuttering.

It was brutal. It was perfect.

The Spy grunted and dug the fingers of his free hand into the Medic’s hip, repositioning him before drawing all but a fraction of his cock out of the man. He waited, watching the Medic shift uncomfortably before the hint of relaxation told him the time was perfect. Slamming his hips forward, the Spy thrust into the Medic hard enough to make the man scream, the wet slap landing new bruises on the mottled flesh of his cheeks and bursting into stars behind his eyes as the Spy’s cock hit the perfect spot. “Whore,” the Spy hissed. “Filthy fucking whore.”

The Scout shifted in his chair, eyes darting away. It was too much. The Spy’s eyes were wide, his lips curled back from his teeth as he fucked the Medic with a violence the Scout had never seen from him. The Medic’s face, the sliver he could see, was brick red, mascara smearing from his weeping eyes, lipstick smeared to one of his ears. A pool of tears and drool darkened the bed beneath the Medic’s cheek, beneath his dazed, ecstatic expression.

The Scout looked over at the Soldier, his body leaning toward the Spy and Medic. The man looked like he was all but ready to come himself, like he was desperate to shove himself into the quietly crying Medic and tear screams from somewhere deep in the Medic’s chest.

He realized he was hard again, nervousness buried under the sound of the Medic’s gasping whimpers half-muffled by his mattress, the Spy’s panting breaths and the sight of the blade laying naked across the purpling splotch of a bruise on the Medic’s back, the dress peeling away from the holes the Spy had cut in it.

 _Shit_ , the Scout thought, torn between being ashamed of himself and the sight. _Holy fucking shit. They are really doing this_.

He sat back, eyebrows knit together, fingers digging into his arms as he squeezed his shirt to his chest. _Am I doing this? Am I that kind of guy?_

The sobbing moan which broke from the Medic’s mouth sent a thrill through him like nothing he’d ever felt before, a shot of pleasure more intoxicating than the drug the Medic had given him. The Scout’s buck teeth sank into his lower lip, his fingers white-knuckled on the arms of the chair.

 _I ain’t gay_ , the Scout told himself. _This ain’t gay, it’s just revenge so it don’t count_. His cock throbbed once, heavily, and the Scout reached his stiff fingers down to reposition himself. _It’s just the drug. I ain’t normally like this, so it’s okay_. His eyes slid from the Soldier to the Spy. _But them two fuckers is evil_.

“Filthy fucking whore,” the Spy growled, fingers tightening on the hilt of his knife and grinding fresh bruises in the Medic’s hip. “You like this, don’t you? You like it when someone breaks you open, when they make you bleed and cry.”

He moaned. “You like it when someone uses you, because this is all you’re good for, you sick German fuck. _Warst du eine hur für ihre SS meisters_?”

When the Medic stiffened and tried to turn, the Spy drew the knife warningly down the shallow hill of the Medic’s spine. “Stay, _salope_. Stay and take it or I’ll slip the point into your spine and make you stay.”

The Medic shivered, horror and fear at war with overwhelming lust. He could not think, could not do anything but shake as the Spy cut him to pieces with his tongue and the dull blade of his cock. He hung quaking on the edge of violence or an orgasm and unable to fall off.  His face was slick with spit, tears, and sweat, twisting with pain and need. _Just a few more_ , he thought, body drawing tight. _Just a few more strokes_.

The Spy laughed at him and sped up, digging the point into a faint dip in the Medic’s spine until he just parted the skin. The sight of the Medic’s blood sent the Spy over the edge and he screamed, shrill and ragged, as his hips pumped.

The first spasm splashed heat inside the Medic, the frenzied slap of the Spy’s hips sending the Medic’s head back, neck straining as he howled, the orgasm knifing him, unbearably sharp, shattering his thoughts as his cock spurted into the sweat-soaked sheets.


	12. Just A Little More

The Soldier whistled through his teeth. “That looked intense. All right, Frenchie, get off the ride. It’s someone else’s turn.”

The Spy stepped back, letting himself slide out of the slack hole of the Medic’s ass. The muscle still spasmed, letting him see the pink walls inside the Medic and the frothy mix of lube and come that painted them. The ring was puffy, pucker stretched wide and grasping. The Spy looked down at the smeared length of his cock thoughtfully before crawling across the bed to kneel before the Medic’s head.

“Clean me off, _salope_.”

When the breathless Medic glared up at him, the Spy tucked the blade of the knife into the crevice between the Medic’s neck and his sweat-slick shoulders. The Medic opened his mouth hesitantly and the Spy fed him his filthy cock with a pleased grin.

“Leave no trace of yourself on me. If you bite, I cut.”

The Spy’s cock tasted of salt and the copper of blood, of the mineral non-flavor of lube and of the musky tang of the Medic’s ass. The Medic worked his stiff tongue into the deflated wrinkles, scrubbing away the traces of himself with a thrill of disgust and worship. The man was just as thorough as he’d hoped.

Behind him, the Soldier positioned himself with a wriggle of his hips and slid himself into the clinging, flexing muscle of the Medic’s ass with a moan. “Oh fuck yeah, doc. Just like that.”

The Spy snorted, hips stroking forward. “You got what you wanted, didn’t you, _putain_?”

The Medic moaned his agreement, loosening his jaw to let the Spy thrust viciously. The Soldier grunted, taking it for a challenge, and sped up, jolting the Medic’s sweating body between their hips until he found a rhythm. As the Soldier pulled back, the Spy thrust forward, filling the Medic’s mouth to painful wideness. The Soldier thrust forward, hips thudding into the Medic’s bruised ass as his cock painted stars behind the Medic’s eyelids. Burning, stretching, the Medic choking on the cock in his mouth while the cock in his ass made him breathless—the Medic throbbed. He ached, toes curling in the prison of his shoes. They grunted over his head, hands digging fresh bruises into him, sweat raining down on the bared skin of his upper back and ass.

It was sweet, agonizing heaven, his ass opening further to the violent slap of the Soldier’s cock and his mouth stretching until his abused jaw twanged with pressure. The Medic’s fingers curled, white knuckled, in the sheets, fluttering his tongue and the ring of his ass as he tried to capture every sensation, every last jolt, the cant of the Soldier’s cock sending white hot waves through him. He had to see it, to see the Spy’s face. Looking up the frantically moving line of the Spy’s body, he could see the man’s face twisting despite himself, eyes half-closed against the salt of sweat and the demand of pleasure.

The Medic could hear himself whimpering, something that might have been ‘please’ if his mouth had not been so full, and he did not know whether he wanted them to come or to never come, to keep him there, suspended, filled and nearly fainting.

The Spy opened his eyes and looked down, pupils blown. The Medic’s face, brick-red and soaking wet, lipstick smeared to his ears, raccoon-eyed and dazed—the Spy shuddered, then wrapped a hand in the Medic’s hair and twisted spitefully.

The Soldier bellowed like a bull, lifting the Medic’s hips off the bed with the force of his orgasm, head thrown back. It was enough to send the Spy down his own hole, fingers tight enough to pull hair from the Medic’s salt-and-pepper waves.

When they slid out of him, the Medic fell flat on his face, gasping, wide eyes staring through the fuzzy fold of sheet near his face. The bed shook as the Soldier and Spy collapsed, gasping, and the Medic could not make himself move to avoid the weight of their limbs. The sheet was soaked through where it touched his skin, and his dress was, no doubt, irreversibly ruined.

He wasn’t. Not quite yet. He just needed a moment.

A single trickle of sweat ran down his temple, the tickle distant and drowned out by the cacophony elsewhere in his body. The Medic needed just a little more. A little more.

“Jesus,” the Scout said, voice breaking the silence. “Jesus, that was… That was really something.”

“Your gift for understatement astounds me, _lapin_.” The Spy picked up a corner of sheet, toweling his face off. “For such a proper man, _docteur_ , you make a fine whore.” He let the sheet and his hand drop to the bed with a thud, chest heaving. “ _J’emmerde_.”

The Soldier’s voice was rusty with effort. “No shit. I’m about fucked out for a little while, but our boy here hasn’t gotten his cock fully wet. Come on, boy. We ain’t fucked old doc into the ground quite yet.”

The Scout startled, the flinch tearing his eyes away from the hint of pink just visible inside the Medic’s ass. As the Soldier watched, his mouth opened and closed, gaping like a fish.

“Come on, kid. We’ll move for you.” The Soldier elbowed the Spy, who grunted and scooted against the head of the Medic’s bed. Patting the mattress, he cleared his throat. “Come on, boy, give the doc what he deserves.”


	13. Fuck Him, Boy

The Scout rose on shaky knees, the room tilting slightly. He had no idea what to say, who to say it to, or even if he really wanted to do this in front of an audience. The open ring of the Medic’s ass was fascinating and more than fascinating, to see into the man. He wanted to touch it, to run a finger along the walls inside the Medic and see if it was as hot as it looked. And the sight of them fucking, the way the Medic seemed to hang between them, his choked gasps and moans, the wet snap of their hips against him—the Scout had never seen anything like it. None of his magazine pictures, none of the movies he’d watched half ashamed and all aroused, no rumors nor Tijuana Bibles had even suggested that this was possible, that you could reduce someone to the animal howls, sweat-wet shrieking, that you could open someone up until you could see inside them and they would still be alive or even want….

He looked at the slack ecstasy in the Medic’s face and shuddered, eyes darting away from the expression on it.

The Soldier and Spy were watching him, the former with a look of mild amusement and the latter with an expression the Scout did not know how to understand. The Soldier smiled encouragingly.

“It’s okay. He wants to be here, and it won’t hurt you any.”

When the Scout still lingered, thin chest heaving, the Soldier sighed and stood. “Let me help, boy. It can be a little overwhelming the first time.” The Scout was obviously terrified, whether because he’d never had sex with anyone, which the Soldier suspected, or because he had never had this kind of sex with anyone. He shrugged mentally. At least it would be interesting watching the boy try.

The Scout flushed, head flung back. “I ain’t no virgin!”

The Soldier reached out gingerly for the Scout’s elbow and he let the Soldier have it, still muttering protest. The Soldier deftly pulled the last of the Scout’s clothes from his clutches and steered him toward the bed, making shushing noises deep in his throat. The Scout lapsed into a resentful silence with a glare, then turned to the Medic’s ass as the Soldier’s other hand gently pressed his head straight.

The Spy reached forward, digging his thumbs into the Medic’s ass and spreading it wide. “Go on, _lapin_ ,” he crooned, a wicked grin on his face. “Explore.”

The Medic grunted, the rough stretch of the Spy’s thumbs sending a sharp spike through him. He shifted uncomfortably, earning a bruising dig from the Spy’s elbows where they rested on his back. The Medic looked up, eyes narrowed, and met the Spy’s delighted and malicious smile.

“Did you think, _putain_ ,” the Spy chided, “that this was over when you decide it’s over? You will take it, _putain_.  You will take it until I decide you will not.”

The Medic shivered, his teeth puncturing his lower lip again, and closed his eyes. The bed creaked, and he felt a long finger slide into him, its coolness a balm where it stroked the fevered skin inside his ass.

“ _Lapin_ ,” the Spy drawled. “Hook your finger and press. There will be a bump. If you push on it, the _docteur_ will make a most entertaining noise.”

The Medic made a hoarse whimper as the Scout’s finger probed at first gently, then with the encouragement of the Soldier behind him and the Spy, roughly enough to dance the line between pain and shock. The Scout grunted eagerly and set about circling the swelling hump of his prostate, trying to find its edges. As it began to swell, the pain faded into a fiery heat and pleasure. The Medic bucked, seeking more of those cool fingers.

“That’s it,” the Soldier crooned. “Find that spot and make him shake.”

The Scout cleared his throat. “Can… can I use more than one finger?”

The Spy laughed. “Do you see his hips move? He is begging for more. Fill him up before you fill him up, _lapin_. Do not worry about him. He likes it rough.”

The Scout braced himself on his free hand and slid a second, cool finger into the Medic. The Medic’s head tossed, a hoarsely obscene moan spilling from his lips. A third finger found its way into his ass, the Spy’s thumbs pulling him open until he could feel the sharp sting of his skin tearing, another tiny stab.

“Oops. Better add some more lube.” The Soldier leaned over the Scout’s shoulder, squirting a thick stream onto his stilled, bundled fingers.

“Nooooo,” the Medic moaned. “No, it’s good. More.”

Beside his head, the Spy’s cock throbbed once, brushing his cheek. Without thinking about it, the Medic opened his mouth, lips and tongue reaching until he could rest the weight of it on his lips. The Spy shifted his hips, pulling back slightly and letting the Medic’s tongue wrestle his cock into the Medic’s waiting mouth.

The Spy grunted, his fingers tightening. “ _Salope_ , _salope_ ,” he murmured, “ _si désireux d'être blessé. Parfait_.”

The Scout’s probing fingers sank further into him, the bones of the knuckle scraping.

“I... wow….” The Scout’s voice was syrupy. “He’s so hot in there, so smooth.”

A fourth finger slid into the Medic and his small, despairing cry was muffled to silence around the Spy’s cock, his eyes rolled back into the spangled darkness of his skull.

The Spy panted. “Roll him over.”

As the Scout and Spy’s fingers left his ass, the Medic scrambled over, his joints creaking in protest. They helped him, pressing him flat before the Spy’s imperious gesture demanded the Medic’s ankles, still bound tightly in his heels. The Scout helped the Medic raise his legs, letting the Spy hook the heels and pull them still upward. The Soldier reached around the Scout, pulling the dress up to the Medic’s waist and peeling the sticky strings of his come away from his chaffed skin. The Medic hissed and wriggled, then settled back, looking up and the Spy’s chin and waiting.

“ _Une moment_ ,” the Spy said to the Scout and Soldier, then looked down. Swinging his thigh over the Medic’s face, he settled the loose purse of his balls on the Medic’s bruised lips. The Medic tilted his head up, his chin digging into the Spy until he could reach the musky ring of the Spy’s ass. He could make the man moan, would make the man dance on his face.

The first stab of the Medic’s tongue, aided by the thick streams of spit and blood, burst a hoarse moan from the Spy’s mouth, his manacling hands tightening on the Medic’s ankles. Slick, thick, and wriggling, it sank into the tense heat of the Spy’s ass.

“Fuck,” the Soldier said softly, watching the Spy writhe, then turned to the Scout. “Fuck him, boy. Slide right into all that heat.”

The Scout took a breath, eyes wild, and the Soldier’s hands settled gently on his hips.

“It’s okay, boy. I’ll help you.” The Soldier’s work-roughened hands raised bumps on the Scout’s tender skin.

Somewhere, somehow, the whole thing had gone off the rails, off the entire fucking map as far as he was concerned. The Scout was achingly hard, the ring of the Medic’s ass fluttering, inviting, the heat of the Soldier’s body behind him oddly soothing. The Soldier’s chin came to a hesitant rest on the Scout’s shoulders, his lips just brushing the Scout’s ear.

“It’s okay, boy,” he murmured, voice soothing and deep. “Let us show you a good time. It’ll be okay.”

Gentle pressure on his hips made the Scout step forward, eyes wide. The Soldier stepped with him, a solid line of heat and a stream of encouragement that blended into a rumble. The Scout sank to his knees on the mattress, the Soldier’s hands feathering up to his shoulders. He watched himself reach forward, fingers wrapped around his cock as he leaned in.

The first try sent his cock sliding sideways, along the slippery slopes of the Medic’s ass. The Scout growled, braced himself, and slid forward again. There was a moment of resistance, the sensation of something trying to keep him out, to push. And then the Medic’s ass opened, sliding a pair of muscled rings down the length of the Scout’s cock.

The Scout gasped raggedly, loud. It was like nothing he’d ever felt. Gripping, caressing, fluttering, hot, sucking at him as he knelt, paralyzed. He could sink in forever, just keep pressing into that heat until it swallowed him up in perfect pleasure. The Spy moved, pulling the Medic’s ankles as he rebalanced, and the muscular clutch of the Medic’s ass tightened first on one side and then the other. The Scout hissed, eyes white and wide.

“Fuck,” he finally panted.

The Soldier leaned forward, his tone rough. “Don’t come yet, boy. Make the Medic howl.” The Scout trembled with tension, nipples tight pebbles on his thin chest. His knees shuddered, a wave that swept up his body. The Soldier dug his fingers momentarily into the Scout’s shoulders. “Come on, boy. Not yet.”

The Scout’s head fell forward, his palms flat against the bed as his chest heaved. The slab of muscle above his cock twitched once and his fingers knotted in the sticky sheets.

The Soldier tutted, then gently pulled the Scout’s knees slightly further apart. “For leverage, boy.” He pushed gently. “Move.”

The Scout took a breath, his hips rocking a fraction of an inch before his breath hissed out. The Soldier dug his fingernails into the ridge of the Scout’s shoulders, the small pain anchoring the Scout. He took another deep breath, settling his knees further in the bed, and reached out for the Medic’s hips.

His first thrust was clumsy as he searched for the right position, the right angle to let him move. The Soldier released his shoulders, fingers trailing over the Scout’s back as he murmured encouragement. His second thrust was better, and with a quick twitch of his hips, the Scout settled into a rhythm.

The Medic moaned against the Spy’s ass. The boy was innocent, so innocent, so unsure and eager and buried inside him, pulsing with the desire to fill the Medic up. Another shift of the Scout’s hips, a few low words from the Soldier, the Spy’s hands pulling him up and the Scout found that perfect spot, dissolving his thoughts into a thousand fireworks. The Medic made a choked, hoarse sound between the Spy’s thighs, freezing momentarily. They could hear him babble, lips smacking between frantic licking, mangled and incomprehensible German trickling out of him like the steady stream of spit that painted the Spy’s ass.

“ _Oui_ ,” the Spy hissed, grinding his hips, “ _t’mangez mon cul, salope_.” He reached down to wrap his fingers around his weeping cock, freeing one of the Medic’s ankles.

Keeping a hand on the Scout’s back, fingers stroking, the Soldier stepped around and grabbed the Medic’s ankle, wrenching his thighs open. “That’s good, boy. See how he likes it? Can you hear him? You’re making him crazy, making that prissy doctor crazy. Keep going. Make him scream.”

Below him, on the bed, their bodies writhed. The Soldier could feel the Scout’s back vibrating, muscles fighting against himself to stave off what was probably going to make him come hard enough to pass out. The Medic was ruined—his dress torn and filthy, a thin stream of blood from his gaping ass pooling on the mattress. The Medic’s cock was purple with need, twitching and swaying as the man babbled in gutter German, lapping loudly at the Spy. The Spy ground himself into the Medic’s face, nearly suffocating him, his hand flying roughly over his cock as his hips stuttered and jerked. A sliver of eye told the Soldier that the Spy was watching him, even at a moment like this.

The Soldier grinned crookedly at him. _Let go_ , he mouthed. Let go.

The Spy glared for a moment, eyebrows crawling together. With a convulsive shudder, the Scout bellowed, his tenor rapidly flying into a high-pitched scream as he came. As the Soldier watched, the Spy’s eyes slid closed, unable to resist the sound of the Scout spilling himself over and over into the Medic, whose babbling became a desperate, hoarse chant.

The Soldier carefully pried the nearly comatose Scout off the Medic with a squelch before the older man had time to finish. The Medic shook, fingers clawing at the Spy’s hips as the Spy painted his stomach and the tattered vinyl of the dress.

The Medic’s pained distress was nearly comic as the Spy slid his ass off the man’s face. The Spy slapped the hands that reached for him, staggering away from the Medic’s prone body.

When the Medic pushed himself up, the Scout was sprawled over his chair, a hand over his face. The Spy leaned against the wall, his free palm slicking his dripping hair back. The Soldier stood closest to him, hands on his hips.

“Well,” the Soldier said, eyeing the Medic. “What should we do with him now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for the delay. I've been seriously ill and my computer went tits up. I have every intention of finishing this and I'm very sorry it's not finished already. This was intended to be a Christmas gift, and at this rate it's more like a St. Paddy's day gift. :-/
> 
> I will try to finish this as soon as possible.


	14. Lull

The Spy snorted, turning to lean his back against the wall, eyes closed. The Soldier watched him breathe, sleek chest slowing as his sweat dried. After a moment, the Spy spoke, voice husky. “He doesn’t deserve to come.”

The Medic could not stop himself from an indignant hiss. He was so close, so close to coming, to being done.

He was so close to winning. The dull burn deep in his ass that told him he was going to need the medigun to walk properly the next day. His body was a mass of burrowing heat, bruises shrieking as they brushed the bed. He was slick, body sliding inside the dress, on the soaked sheets, the mounds of his ass sliding against each other as he moved.

Just a little more. He was achingly empty.

The Soldier drummed his fingers against his sides, eyeing the Medic’s face as it twitched, emotions flying across it. The Spy had a point, but he wanted to come one more time, to empty himself into the Medic and feel the man’s eager body sucking at him as it bled. “One more for me,” he said slowly. “How do you suppose we can do this without him rubbing himself off in the process?”

The Spy opened his eyes to slits and contemplated the Medic, the open desperation that the man could no longer hide. He pushed himself away from the wall, looking around the room. _The little shit has to have one_ , he thought, pulling open a drawer with a pained creak.

He found what he was looking for under the bed, in an innocuous-looking box. The Medic tensed as he pulled the box out from under the bed, his mouth opening to protest before closing with an audible clack. A rustle, and the Spy pulled it from the box—a cock ring.

“You’re lucky, _salope_ , that you have one. I would have improvised with a rubber band.” The Spy snorted. “Maybe I still should.”

The Medic curled protectively around himself, a brief look of horror flying across his face. The Spy slapped his hands away and settled the ring snugly around the Medic’s flushed cock, pushing him flat on the bed.

“Go ahead,” the Spy said over his shoulder. “It’s tight enough. Do anything.”

The Soldier chuckled, giving himself a stroke. “My favorite phrases. Stand up, doc, and touch your toes.”

The Medic slid off the bed, the Spy pushing at him until he was bent. As he grabbed his own ankles, the dress ruched around his waist, torn edges fluttering.

The Soldier stood for a moment behind him, contemplating the bright splotches of handprints and bruises on the Medic’s pale ass. Runnels of lube, come, and the browning streaks of blood made a maze on the back of the Medic’s thighs, matting the hair where his stockings had been torn. Between his ankles, he could see the Medic’s reddening face: a messy painting of lipstick, mascara, the rough stubble of beard, bruised and split lips. The Medic’s glossy eyes watched him, desperate and pleading.

The Soldier let his eyes travel up slowly, seeking. Between the pale, bruised cheeks of the Medic’s ass, the swollen pout of his ass, a sliver of darkness visible where it would not quite close.

He shivered once, unconsciously—the prissy Medic, eyes begging for more, past the point where any sane man would have stopped.

It looked good on him. So very, very good.

The Soldier’s voice was gentle at first, an intimate rumble that coaxed the ear as his fingers teased his cock. “Beg me, doc. Beg me to ruin you.”

The Medic took a sharp, shocked breath, head coming up as his mouth opened.

“Beg me,” the Soldier said again, heat trickling into his voice. “I know your type. I know this is what you want. Beg me.”

The Medic, awash in a sea of endorphins, had prepared himself to endure, to be pounded until the Soldier filled him again with a splash, to dissolve into the hoarse and thoughtless noise of his body. The Soldier’s voice was sweet, the demand more awful for the tone of his voice. He stared at the bulky tower of the Soldier’s body, his head tilting to better see the Soldier’s face.

Who was this man?

Again the Soldier called, heat firming the rumble to a growl, body tensing visibly to spring.

The Medic shuddered, the Spy with him, equally surprised. The Scout merely watched, so far past the edge of comfort that he floated, body splayed bonelessly as his eyes followed the stalking Soldier.

The Medic licked his lips. It took him three tries to force it out, past a lash of stubborn pride. _Just a little more_ , he thought. _I need_.

“Please,” the Medic whispered, fingers digging into the shaking muscle of his thighs.

The Soldier gestured impatiently with his free hand, intent on the Medic’s flushed face.

“Ruin me,” the Medic whispered, eyes wide at the sound of his own voice.

The crooked smile that stretched across the Soldier’s scarred face was the single most sinister thing the Medic had seen in years. The Soldier flowed forward, his sweat-slick skin gleaming under the pale light, tense with the promise of mayhem.

The Medic wasn’t sure what he expected, body leaning slightly to close the last inch between them. Something violent. Something that would jar, that would hurt again and finish him in a blaze of pain.

Instead, the Soldier pushed him down gently on the bed, turning him over. The same, crooked grin promised mayhem, but the hands that positioned the Medic’s trembling thighs around his waist were kind. The Soldier slid into him carefully, hands cupping the Medic’s ass to pull him closer, then settling around his hips.

The Medic made a frustrated growl deep in his throat. The ring was bad enough, keeping him achingly hard. The leisurely pace of the Soldier’s thrusts, the way he held the Medic’s hips without setting his bruises to clamoring again would not let him lose himself. Even the feel of his ass being filled again was not enough to keep him on the bright edge of pleasure.

When the Medic whimpered, the Soldier laughed at him. His laughter was echoed by the Spy a moment later, the man’s dark eyebrows rising in comic surprise.

“ _Bien_ ,” the Spy gloated. “I see what you’re up to.” He sat down on the bed with a thump, watching the Medic’s face with a nasty smile.

The Medic glared at him, furious, then turned back toward the Soldier, whose hips counted out the same, infuriatingly slow pace.

The attempt to fuck himself on the Soldier merely made the man stop and wait, his stupid, crooked smile broadening to a grin. The noise the Medic made in the back of his throat was very nearly a sob—the man was going to let him come down, to keep him from the orgasm that had settled a new ache in his balls. The pain in his body grew louder, endorphins dimming and leaving behind the battered awareness of his injuries and a wave of exhaustion.

The Medic closed his eyes, going limp. He was wrung out and more than wrung out, sweat, come and lube drying to a sticky paste everywhere but where the Soldier thrust, the very gentleness of his thrusts lulling the Medic into a stupor, time stretching away with each thump of his hips against the Medic’s ass. Whatever the man was going to do, he would do.

The Soldier watched the Medic’s body loosen, his arms falling to the bed as his breathing slowed. He waited a few minutes past that point, letting the Medic fall into surrender, his face slackening as his head fell to the side, eyelids smoothing.

When he repositioned the Medic, the man merely winced and sighed, eyes still closed.


	15. This is About to Get Tricky

His eyes flew back open when the Soldier thrust into him with a slap, his cock slamming into the magic spot in his ass. The stunned, empty look on his face was exactly what the Soldier had been looking for, the shock that told him he had snuck up on the controlling Medic and reached somewhere past the man’s scheming, self-obsessed, vengeful mind. The Medic’s glassy eyes locked on the Soldier’s face, their wide and wet depths fixed. His bruised mouth hung open loosely, the air loud and ragged, his whole face open at last.

The Soldier’s twisted smile grew into a self-satisfied smirk. He’d been waiting to lure the man out past his control, past the ability to keep some part of himself to the side and view being fucked as something they were doing for him.

“You have,” the Spy purred, leaning forward to see the expression on the Medic’s face, “hidden depths, my friend. I had no idea you had it in you.”

“Could not,” the Soldier gasped, eyes still boring into the Medic’s, “have done it without you, Frenchie.”

The Spy made a non-committal noise in the back of his throat, watching the Soldier and Medic closely as he pulled a cigarette and lighter from the discarded pocket of his slacks. With a small movement, he lit it and leaned back on his arms, smoke trailing in gray plumes over his head.

As the Soldier watched, his hips beating out a brutal series of thuds against the Medic’s ass, the Medic’s face twisted, a naked expression of need and longing sending a flush up the filthy skin of his face.

“That’s a good boy,” the Soldier gasped, sweat running down the tense plane of his chest. “Show me you need it.”

In response, the speechless Medic’s lips worked, his back lifting briefly from the bed to fall back with a frustrated groan. His hands crept clumsily over to the Soldier’s hands where they braced against the mattress and crawled up them, digging into the shifting cords of muscle. He was lost, entirely lost, floating away into the intensely dark pools of the Soldier’s eyes, the tree of his nerves white hot and blinding.

“That’s right,” the Soldier grunted, eyes closing briefly as sweat dribbled past them. “That’s a good boy.”

To his surprise, the Medic’s ass could still squeeze him, blood throbbing hot through the exquisitely tight walls that cupped his cock. The Medic’s whole body was hard around him, quaking with it, muscles pushed long past the ability for the Medic to control them. Beneath him, the Medic twitched and shook, face begging for release, for something, eyes fixed and unfocused on his. The Medic’s cock, trapped between them, was purple, drooling a thick stream and shuddering with need above the tight ring that kept it hard.

The Soldier laughed, a gusty chuckle that was quickly buried beneath his panting breath. “This is a damn sight,” he gasped, “more honest than you usually are, doc.”

Even that didn’t shock the Medic out of his reverie.

“ _Quelle surprise_ ,” the Spy drawled, squinting down through the smoke. “You’ve finally figured out how to shut him the fuck up.”

The Soldier would have glared, but couldn’t spare the energy for much more than an irritated growl. The Spy snorted, but did not speak again.

The Soldier shifted, pulling the Medic back until he could carefully ease his knees down to the floor, leaving the Medic’s slack thighs to dangle from the edge of the mattress. The Medic’s quiet moan of protest faded as the Soldier went back to fucking him, his arms still limp above his head where they had been dragged across the sticky sheets.

 _This_ , the Soldier thought, eyebrows knotting, _is about to get tricky_.


	16. To Get Exactly What Was Coming to Him

He wasn’t sure how the man would take it, but the very fact that the Medic had goaded them all so hard, rising up to meet fists and abuse with a desperate hunger made the Soldier willing to bet the Medic would sit still for it, might even crave it enough to make him kittenish when he got it.

A moment of decision, staring into the naked need burning in the Medic’s face, and the Soldier let his shoulders loosen deceptively, hips slowing to a gentle slap. The Medic nearly sobbed, his face twisting and the hills of muscle in his arms and shoulders rising to ridges.

As the Medic squirmed, the Soldier ghosted his hands up the Medic’s torso slowly, stopping to brush rough circles over an exposed nipple where the dress had been pulled down. The Medic stilled, glassy eyes still locked on the Soldier’s face. His lips parted in a soundless moan, pouting loosely, as the Soldier pinched gently, then less gently.

By the time the Soldier’s hands had reached the Medic’s neck, the Medic was still again, a wave of bumps rising on his exposed skin, body yearning into the slow, firm thrusts that filled him up. The Soldier gave a first squeeze, easily finding the small, floating bone in the Medic’s neck beneath his thumbs.

“This time,” the Soldier said softly, “we’re going to go all the way.” He took a breath, letting an anticipatory wave of warmth raise the dense hair on his arms. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, doc?”

The Medic’s glassy eyes started to sharpen, but the Soldier fucked it away, letting his hands remain a heavy necklace on the thick cords of the Medic’s neck. When the Medic loosened again, the Soldier shifted slightly for traction, setting his knees firmly on the floor.

A quick look told him the Spy would not interfere, despite the shocked expression on his face. The Soldier’s eyes darted quickly to the side, toward the Scout, and the Spy shrugged, a minuscule gesture, then stood and crossed the room to lock the door with a click.

“ _Lapin_ ,” the Spy said, turning to watch the Scout in his chair, “it would be best if you did not get in the way.”

The Scout said nothing, vibrating with tension and perched on the edge of his chair, eyes wild where they were turned toward the bed. He could not watch anything else, could not look away. It had to be a dream, a very odd dream, this night, the strangest nightmare he’d ever had. He did not notice the Spy until the man stood inches away from him, and jumped when the Spy spoke again.

“You should get closer, _lapin_.” His voice was not gentle enough to hide the heat in it, the mocking edge of something darker than laughter. “Don’t miss a thing.”

The Scout stood, knees shuddering, and staggered toward the bed. He could not miss it, whatever it was, the air snapping with tension. The Soldier’s hands were huge and sun-dark on the pale skin of the Medic’s neck, their grasp deceptively loose.

Behind him, the Spy’s voice sunk into a filthy whisper. “Enjoy it, _lapin_. This won’t be like anything you’ve seen before.”

The Scout wanted to say something, to fire back at the Spy whose body heat was a worrying presence against his back. He wanted to say something about the look on the Soldier’s face, about the way his hands looked on the Medic’s neck and the sheer, dumb wall of panic that seemed to push his thoughts out of his head entirely. Distantly, he could feel his whole body shaking like a leaf in the winter wind, cold and rattling.

On the bed, the Soldier kept moving, the wet smack of his hips mechanically pounding at the Medic.

 _What is he waiting for_ , the Scout thought dimly, his hands wringing. _What is he going to do?_

The Spy reached forward, curling his hands around the Scout’s hips and startling another jump from him.

“It will be okay, _lapin_ ,” the Spy crooned, fitting his body into the shorter Scout’s back and wrapping his arms around the trembling boy. “It will be okay and you will like it.”

The Scout’s pulse was a flutter against the Spy’s arms, reminding him of a trapped bird, frantic to escape. The Scout was so soft, so sweet and innocent, and if they were to do this together, the Spy wanted to feel the boy’s reaction against him, to feel the shock and the clamor of his confusion as the Soldier wrung every last little bit of life from the Medic’s body. With a nudge, he settled his chin into the hollow of the Scout’s shoulder. A quick glance down told him he would be able to see what the sight of it did to the Scout, if the sight stung him to full hardness and need.

To his surprise, the Scout did not wriggle away but stood, the chill skin of his ass brushing the Spy’s cock with each tremor. A nudge pushed the Scout’s head to the side, giving the Spy access to his neck, wet with fear sweat. He would never have considered the brash Scout under any other circumstances, but the very innocence that made him so annoying on the field turned him into an irresistible target, one the Spy intended to hit until the Scout had not even the slightest shred of innocence left.

The Spy grinned once, exposing the sharp edges of his canine teeth.

“You like watching, don’t you, _lapin_ ,” he murmured, letting his lips brush the Scout’s ear. “You like watching us fuck the doctor. _Trop coquin, fil_. _Trop, trop coquin_.”

The Scout gasped, the sound turning the Soldier’s head.

The Soldier snorted once, amused, at the sight—the Scout, trembling, eyes and mouth wide, head cocked to let the Spy look over his shoulder. The Spy had wrapped himself around the boy, the pleased and predatory glint in his eyes telling the Soldier that if the boy got through the night without a cock up his ass it would be entirely because the Spy was playing a game with him that he intended to finish in private.

Turning back to the Medic, the Soldier’s eyes hooded, lids sliding down. It was time, and whether the old man liked it or not, he was about to get exactly what was coming to him.


	17. What Was Coming to Him

The Soldier could feel anticipation rising, battering against his self-control, the frentic need to squeeze and finish the orgasm that hung, trembling and sharp, moments away. A muscle in his jaw jumped as he gritted his teeth, using the small nag of pressure to help master the urge to dash headlong into his own pleasure. Instead, he merely sped up ever so slightly, fingers slowly tightening as he watched the Medic’s body tense, his lips opening into a soundless moan.

He waited until a dusky red had swept the Medic’s skin to let him breathe again. The Medic’s thighs tightened when he squeezed again, his body moving unconsciously to force the Soldier deeper inside him, to goad more sensation. The Soldier let him, watching the Medic’s cock blush nearly purple, the man’s wide blown pupils a black hole covered in liquid gloss.

“Old hand at this, too, doc,” the Soldier gasped. “Ain’t surprised.”

The Soldier made a pattern of it, each time squeezing a little harder, coaxing the fine, floating bone of the Medic’s hyoid up against the heel of his hand with the pressure of his hands, waiting to see the delicate tremors of the Medic’s cock become more violent, the Medic’s body shuddering with the twin need of oxygen and to come.

The Medic merely burned—hard hands on his neck, a million sparkling fountains of pain, the jolt of the Soldier’s cock, danger, the hot trickle of the Soldier’s sweat and the way it tickled as it trickled down him, the mattress moving beneath him, his muscles spasming without his control, the fetid air, the slurping slap of his ass—he had gone beyond thought.

When the Medic’s shudders had become a jittering dance on the bed, the Soldier spoke again, dashing the sweat from his forehead with the top of one of his arms. Holding off his orgasm, holding himself on the razor-sharp edge of control, was very nearly pain. But it would be worth it.

“Go ahead,” he gasped. “Take it off. Touch yourself now.”

The Medic’s hands were clumsy, fumbling at the rubber of the cock ring and wrenching his cock sideways, desperate to finish. Behind him, the Soldier could hear the Spy’s disapproving hiss. He flicked a hand dismissively over his shoulder before returning it to the Medic’s neck.

The Spy grumbled, the sound startling a flinch from the Scout tucked into his arms. He hadn’t planned to let the Medic finish at all, adding a little insult to injury, but the Soldier apparently had his own plans. The Scout took a deep breath, shifting uncomfortably and dragging the Spy’s attention back to him, to the trembling combination of uncertainty and eagerness that the Spy found so irresistible. The Spy walked him forward one more step, positioning them both a step from the bed.

“There’s nothing like it,” he whispered in the Scout’s ear, the fine blonde hairs that haloed the Scout’s head tickling his lips. “There’s nothing like this, _lapin_.”

The Scout bit his lip, sucking it into his mouth with a wet pop. He should worry. He knew he should worry about the man behind him, about what they were doing and what it meant, about what the Medic would do and why the aloof Spy was suddenly so eager to touch him. He should worry.

He knew he should push away from the Spy’s arms.

He knew he should leave. The slow pressure of the Spy’s arms was somehow both worrying and arousing, the sight terrifying and hotter than anything he’d ever experienced. There’s nothing like it, the Spy had said, and the Scout was afraid that he was right.

He could no more stop watching than he could sprout wings and fly away.

The Soldier could feel the Medic’s ass twitching around him, the lump of his prostate firming into a hard knot at the end of the Soldier’s cock. His hand flew in short, choppy strokes on his cock, the Medic finally starting to arch up off the bed, chin rising to hide his face.

It was what the Soldier had been waiting for, staving off his orgasm for this moment, for what he would see. His hands clamped down, cutting across the great veins of the Medic’s neck.

The timing had been just right—the pressure didn’t stop the Medic from coming, spurting across himself, eyes rolled tight beneath his eyelids as his lips curled back from his teeth. When the Medic was done coming, his head starting to come back down and hands rising to pry the Soldier’s hands from his neck, the Soldier let his hands finally finish, crushing the pipe of the Medic’s throat and breaking the bone with a tiny crack that he could feel as clear as a slap. The Medic’s eyes flew open, shock and terror filling his eyes with accusation as his fingernails gouged the Soldier’s calloused hands.

The Soldier merely grinned, a bloody smile that filled the Medic’s dying vision before darkness swallowed it up.

The Soldier rode the Medic’s death spasms out with a choked moan, coming hard enough to make himself dizzy as the Medic’s body gave a final, incredibly tight clench before going limp, the clear imprint of his hands rising blue on the Medic’s slack neck.

Behind him, he could hear the Scout’s shocked gasp and the Spy’s mocking chuckle. He stayed buried in the Medic’s body, his eyes closed, waiting for the last echo of pleasure to ring down his legs and his heart to slow its reckless gallop. The Soldier could not prevent himself from gasping when the Medic’s body disappeared into respawn, exposing his sensitive cock to the cooler air. Stumbling upright, he let himself fall back on the bed and opened his eyes.

The look on the Scout’s face was perfect. Broken, pale as milk, twin spots burning high on his cheeks, his lips sagging open, the Spy’s hand making a last pump before the Scout spurted on the sticky tile of the floor and went limp against the Spy’s body.

The Soldier folded his arms behind his head, a single amused snort breaking the silence. The Spy let the Scout slide down, ruffling the Bostonite’s hair with his clean hand.

“Did I not tell you, _lapin_ , that there’s nothing like it?”

The Scout could not answer him, his gaze firmly glued to the floor between his knees, shoulders hunched. A hole had been burned through him, something vital hollowed out of him and taken away.

The Spy sat down on the edge of the bed, wiping his dirty hand absently on the sheets before looking over at the recumbent form of the Soldier. “Are you quite sure, _mon brute_ , that he will not seek revenge after this?”

The Soldier stared at him for a moment, eyes shadowed under the heavy ridge of his brow. “You ain’t earned a _mon_ from me, Frenchie.” He paused to think before continuing. “No, I ain’t sure what doc is going to do. But I also ain’t gonna let doc think for a moment that he has all the power. And a little revenge is worth him being just a little more unsure when he looks at me.”

The Spy’s eyebrows met, then he shrugged. “Fair enough, _brute_.”

He nudged the Scout with a bare foot. “ _Lapin_ , I intend to leave here soon. It would be foolish for you to stay. The _docteur_ is unlikely to be in the best mood when he returns, and you are a very convenient target.”

The Scout left without a word, gathering his clothes to his chest with numbed fingers, his head still hanging low. The Soldier and Spy watched him leave, eyes following him through the room.

“That one ain’t gonna be okay after all this, Frenchie. I don’t wanna tell you your business, but don’t fuck him up so bad he can’t do his job.” The Soldier turned slightly, raising himself up on his elbows. “That one was a little wet around the ears for all this.”

 “ _Oui_ ,” the Spy purred throatily, eyes still locked on the door the Scout had just exited. “He was.” He blinked repeatedly, then looked over at the Soldier’s measuring stare. “We did not start this, _brute_ , but I will not push the boy too hard.”

The Soldier shrugged. “Like I said. It ain’t my business.”

With a heavy sigh, he levered himself off the Medic’s bed. “I think I’m going to go shower this shit off me. You coming, Frenchie?”

The Spy made a show of looking the Soldier up and down, pushing to see what the Soldier would do, if he would become uncomfortable in the aftermath, but the Soldier merely smiled contemptuously at him, resting a hand on his heavily muscled hip. As the Spy watched, the Soldier flexed, a wave of tension across the sweat-shine of his chest.

“I ain’t looking for that kind of company after all this, Frenchie. And don’t think I blush easy, either. You coming?”

The Spy stood and stretched, putting on a show of his own. He would be the last to admit that the Soldier had surprised him, wary of any sign of weakness in front of a man he had assumed was an idiot and discovered was something else entirely. They gathered their clothes and he followed the Soldier out, resolving to keep a much closer eye on him in the future.

When the Medic stomped back into his room a few minutes later, he found it empty of everything but evidence. He stood in the doorway, one hand rising unconsciously to his now-healed neck. The floor was spattered with sweat, the milky smears of come and small, dark brown spots of blood. His sheets were torn, limply translucent against his mattress, pillows strewn about where they had been thrown to get them out of the way. The air still stunk of sex.

He sat down in his desk chair, sorting the ricochet and echo of his thoughts. It had been perfect and terrifying, the Soldier’s face still swimming before him in the air, a shark grin appearing with the ghost of pressure on his neck.

It had not been what he was expecting.

He was not sure how to feel.


End file.
